I Know That Look
by CSIHuntermom
Summary: Mac reflects on September 11th. Stella tries to comfort him.


**A/N **This was written two years ago. I wanted to post it today, September 11th.

Thanks to LeighLHD for the awesome beta work.

I Know That Look

Stella

I walked into his office. His back was to me as I stood holding the DNA results of the case we were working together. I don't even have to look at his face to know what he was thinking.

It's that time of year. The sultry, humid days of the Eastern Seaboard become a little cooler. I looked out of his window as the sun made its way westward. The sky was starting to become a darker shade of blue. But that's not what his attention was focused on.

His attention was focused on the cold, steely, grey debris that sits at Ground Zero. It's the place where the World Trade Center Twin Towers used to climb among the Manhattan skyline. But, Mac Taylor wasn't thinking about the loss of lives that happened on that tragic day, nor was he thinking of the horrific aftermath that shocked this country and the rest of the world, he's thinking about her….

Claire Conrad Taylor. That's what, or more like _who _was keeping his mind occupied as I stood in his office.

Part of me wanted to make a joke about stripping naked to get his attention. Maybe even mention walking naked through the Lab knowing that both Danny and Flack would have a whole lot to say. But no, I kept my comments to myself as I watched Mac stare blankly out his window.

"Achem, Mac," I said _secretly_ not wanting to disturb him.

He didn't move.

"So, should I just strip now in your office or do you think Adam would enjoy a show?"

I couldn't help myself as the words found their way out of my mouth

"I wonder where he is?" Mac quietly asked turning my question into one of his own.

He didn't hear a word I said.

"Where does he go, what does he do?" He asked again I'm sure not expecting me to answer.

"Who, who are you talking about?" I said as he _finally _turned around so I could see his face.

A small smile crept across my face.

"I know that look," I stated hoping that he would at least _act_ like he's focused on the case and not rambling on about something I really don't know about.

In all of our intimate contacts, I thought I could read Mac Taylor. I know when he was deep in thought; I know when he was on the verge of solving a case; his eyes gave him away. I can also read his expressions when he wants more than just a hug or a kiss. His hazel eyes and face are so expressive; I think _that alone_, was why I fell in love with him.

I said I know that look of his, but there was something else behind it this time, something else that I can't pin- point. It's in the tone of his voice. It made me feel uncomfortable because I thought I knew _everything_ about Mac Taylor.

Underneath that cool calm exterior, lies a man full of doubt and conflict. Although he puts on a very polished exterior, inside he tears himself up over sometimes the smallest of matters. To him, everything is connected; everything has a reason for being what it is. When he can't find the reason, it eats at him until he can. Mac has seen conflict, blood shed, destruction and death serving his country, our country. A matter he doesn't take lightly or one he would turn down if offered the chance again. What tears him up was the idea that the destruction we see everyday in our jobs as CSI's affects our lives in such a personal way.

Claire Conrad Taylor. That's the conflict he faces when summer turned to fall. It's the day that everyone remembered, September 11, 2001. Everyone in America and even the world can recall what they were doing on that particular day. That was the day that his wife, Claire Conrad Taylor, lost her life.

"He's my son…..." Mac said sounding very distracted.

Mac

I know he's not really my son I thought as Stella stood in my office trying to explain to me some details of our case.

But, somehow when I found him, or when he found me, I felt this urge to protect him, to nurture him and somehow try to right the wrong that happened to his mother 5 years ago. He's a piece of her. Even if she is no longer with me, he can be.

This was the day my world fell apart, my world and everyone else's. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents all lost someone on this tragic day in our Country's history.

My wife, my loving wife of 8 years died today, September 11th. The only way I could even face the world was Stella.

Stella has been my rock for many, many years. I could tell just by the friendly way she would touch me, she wanted me to be okay. I had such a hard time explaining to her about my feelings, yet _somehow _she understood. I love her in a way I can't describe and that makes it hard for me.

All she had to do was look at me and I knew she was a friend and sometimes even more than that. Sometimes her big hazel eyes would smile at me before she could say anything.

All though years I thought I hid my pain. I thought I hid it not only from Stella but from the rest of the world. Stella knew better. All she has to do is look at me and I felt reassured. Her loving touch, her warm friendly smile, her passion for her job, all made me feel that life was worth living.

But in the mist of destruction, debris and death we see every day came life. Life in the form of Claire's son

"Mac," I heard her say. "Mac, Mac, Are you there?" Stella joked as my eyes finally met hers.

"Never mind," Stella started after looking at me, "I know that look."


End file.
